The bunker's map table became a war room.
Naia, Kofi, Tyra, Jax, Mina, and Adebayo pored over scribbled notes, the Fracture's hum a constant reminder—the calm was a held breath. Naia's pendant glowed softly, as if syncing with her tension.
"The Oriri won't stop or leave ," Adebayo said, tracing a knot in the map—a weak point where reality thinned. "They'll probe Azuji's defenses, looking for leverage. Naia, your _ukazi_ is their target."
Tyra tapped a marker against her lips. "But they don't know we have the Threadweaver's gift. Can we use it?"
Naia touched the crystal, its pulse mirroring hers. "She said it's a heartbeat… not a weapon. I think we're missing something."
Kofi leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "The Threadweaver hinted at a choice. What if the Fracture isn't just a threat—it's a message?"
Mina's eyes widened as she scrolled through digitized archives. "Guys, I found something. Azuji's founding legend—it talks about a 'balance thread.' If the Fracture breaks, it unravels not just reality… but _memory_."
Adebayo's face tightened. "The Oriri could erase Azuji itself. No one would remember it existed."
Naia's grip on the pendant tightened. "They want me to choose: guard the Fracture or protect the town's memory. But who's pulling the strings—the Oriri… or something deeper?"
A sudden draft swept the bunker, snapping lights. Shadows danced, and the Threadweaver materialized, her white robes stark against the dim. "You unravel faster than expected, Naia."
Kofi instinctively shielded Naia, but the woman's gaze was almost warm. "No need, Kofi Okoye. I'm not here to harm."
"The Threadweaver," Naia said, resolve steady. "What do you mean, we're unraveling?"
"The Fracture's a thread in a loom," she said, pacing, her steps soundless. "Azuji's history is woven into it. The Oriri want to cut a path… to the Weaver."
"Who's the Weaver?" Tyra asked, voice hushed.
"The one who shaped balance," the Threadweaver said, eyes glinning. "Long ago, they bound chaos into the Fracture. Left a key: Azuji. And a guardian… you, Naia."
Adebayo's voice was a low growl. "Why reveal this now?"
"Because," she said, turning to Naia, "the Oriri aren't the only thread fusing. Yours is tangled. You must choose: sever the Fracture, or weave a new pattern."
Naia's mind spun. "Weave… how?"
"Find the Weaver's loom," the Threadweaver whispered. "Deep in _Erebo Oloko_, where shadows remember. But be warned: the Oriri aren't the only ones seeking or hunting it.
Pieces are shifting. You'll need allies… and secrets."
Kofi's jaw set. "What's at the loom?"
"Answers," she said cryptically. "And a truth Azuji's founders hid. The Fracture isn't a flaw—it's a filter. Something 'outside' wants balance… but at a cost."
The bunker shook—a warning. Mina's devices flared. "Oriri's breaching the perimeter!"
The Threadweaver vanished, leaving a coded note: _"Follow the forgotten rain. Trust no thread."_
Chaos erupted. Jax and Lara radioed in, trapped near the old clock tower. "Oriri agents flooding in—they're not hiding!"
Naia's _ukazi_ surged. "Split up. Kofi, Tyra—get to Erebo Oloko, find the loom. Mina, reroute power, keep the Fracture stable. Jax, Lara—fall back to the safehouse. *We move now.*"
As they scattered, Adebayo gripped Naia's arm. "Remember, child: weaving isn't control. It's harmony. Don't lose yourself."
Kofi and Tyra sprinted into the forest, rain suddenly pouring—a pattern, not a storm. _"Forgotten rain,"_ Tyra muttered, decoding droplets on a leaf-map.
The trees thickened, _Erebo Oloko_'s heartbeat loud. A clearing emerged—a skeletal dome, roots twisting into an altar. A voice echoed, not the Threadweaver's.
_"You're early, Naia Ebere… but the pattern's set."_
A figure coalesced—a man, unlike anyone Naia had seen. Ageless. His eyes held stars.
"The Weaver," he said, voice weaving thoughts. "You came for balance… but are you ready to pay?"
Kofi stepped forward, knife at the ready. "What do you want?"
The Weaver's smile was threads unraveling. "I want a new thread. One that doesn't bind… but connects. The Oriri crave power. You crave truth. Which will you weave?"
Suddenly, the Fracture's hum grew deafening. Shadows around them began to fusing, as if reality itself was choosing sides.
Naia's pendant flared. "What's the cost?" she asked, voice clear.
"Your choice," the Weaver said, offering two threads—one dark, one light. "Balance demands sacrifice. Sever the Fracture, erase the Oriri… lose a part of Azuji. Weave a path… risk everything."
The clearing stilled. Rain stopped. Naia's mind raced—protect the town, or reshape the rules?
Kofi's hand brushed hers, warm and steady. "We choose… together."
Tyra's eyes darted between the threads. "If we don't choose, they'll choose for us."
The Weaver leaned closer, breath scented with forgotten time. "Then decide, Naia. The loom waits."
A crack split the earth—the Fracture's call, or a warning? Naia's _ukazi_ thrinned, urging…